


and then it's the flame

by Nevcolleil



Series: a makeshift gauge [1]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Not Related, But what if they weren't raised as if they were?, Coming Untouched, I mean technically they aren't related in canon, M/M, NSFW, Prison, Prison Sex, blowjob, cellmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:45:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you want this, you gotta ask me for it,” Linc says in his grave voice. “I don’t like playing games. I told you, long as you’re breaking me out of this place you don’t owe me nothing else.”</p><p>“Maybe I want to give you something else,” Michael counters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and then it's the flame

**Author's Note:**

> I've been jotting down bits and pieces here and there, of an AU I've pondered about on Tumblr - where Lincoln and Michael didn't grow up as brothers, Michael is the one framed for murder and Lincoln goes to prison looking for him (on behalf of Aldo, who never adopted him but still looked out for him as best he could while Lincoln was raised by the Company.) I'm absolutely CRAP at finishing long fics, keeping up with updates on even short pieces, so I'm just going to post what I've got when I've got it here as a collection. No promises when/if another part will be available.

The second the bulls step away from their cell, the night Lincoln’s escorted back from the infirmary, Lincoln steps up to the side of Michael’s bunk, dark eyes locked on Michael’s, and says calmly but firmly, “Hang the sheet.”

Somehow Michael doubts it’s because Linc is in a hurry to get back to digging.

Michael doesn’t argue. He doesn’t say anything. Words feel unnecessary - Michael can feel Linc’s steady gaze on the top of his head as he climbs out of his bunk, on his shoulders as he lifts and ties, secures and tapes a sheet over the bars.

A whistle or two break the silence that’s settled over A Block, and a couple of catcalls follow from nosy cons who never tire of that sort of thing, no matter how common it is for cellmates to do what they assume Michael and Lincoln have been doing since the beginning.

Michael’s hands are shaking as he turns to face Linc, but not with fear.

Lincoln’s on him before he even has a chance to step away. He presses Michael back into the bars of their cell firmly, the shadows they cast through the thin sheet reviving the catcalls that were just started to taper off in the cell block beyond.

Michael’s breath catches as Linc’s body pushes into his - releases unsteadily as they shift around each other, a hand clenching in the side of Lincoln’s jumpsuit, a heavy palm sliding over the back of Michael’s head to curl around his neck - then catches again as Lincoln leans in, so close they share breaths while their eye contact continues unbroken.

“If you want this, you gotta ask me for it,” Linc says in his grave voice. “I don’t like playing games. I told you, long as you’re breaking me out of this place you don’t owe me nothing else.”

“Maybe I want to give you something else,” Michael counters. He didn’t save Lincoln for that - for some sort of quid pro quo, Lincoln threatening T-bag for him, Michael stopping Abruzzi’s men from taking out Lincoln.

He didn’t even do it for this, not really, but that’s a revealation Michael would rather not examine between the two of them at the moment, so he’s as relieved as he is ridiculously turned on when Lincoln grabs Michael’s free hand and presses it between his own legs. 

Underneath his clothes, Lincoln is hard, and warm - even his hand is hot to the touch as he grips Michael roughly, and a quiet groan rises out of Michael’s throat before he can stop it.

“This is for you,” Linc is saying, pumping the blood through Michael’s veins faster than his heart can manage, lost to its own wild beating inside of Michael’s chest. “Not because you’re here and I’m horny, or because it’s been so long since I’ve fucked anyone. This is from thinking about you... about what I was gonna come back here and do to you.”

“ _Fuck_.”

Michael’s never gotten so hard so fast in his life.

“At some point, yeah,” Lincoln just keeps on, moving his mouth from Michael’s lips... to the edge of his jaw, ducking down to nearly - but not quite - nuzzle against Michael’s neck as Michael stretches it to accomodate him, seeking his kiss. “But that’s not the first of it... or the last.”

Unless Michael’s mistaken - and he’s really not - Lincoln “The Sink” Rory is doing his goddamned best to seduce him.

And he is devastatingly successful.

“What do you want, Michael?” Linc asks, and the strain of urgency in his tone is finally more than Michael can take.

Michael gives Lincoln a sudden, firm shove and Linc lets himself be shoved, eyes going wide but not filling with anything - not getting the chance - before Michael goes to his knees, and Lincoln swears.

“Consider this me asking,” Michael says, too turned on even to care so much that his voice sounds breathless, reedy. 

_Giddy_. He sounds giddy, kneeling on hard concrete in an 8 x 8 prison cell, offering himself to the murderer he’d thought had been sent to kill him when Lincoln had first been transferred into his cell.

Of course, none of this is that simple. 

“You don’t gotta-”

“I won’t last long enough to get you inside me any other way,” Michael says as casually as he can. Like he doesn’t know exactly how the words make Lincoln feel - tipping his head back with a groan.

“Jesus Christ, kid,” he says, but all Michael can focus on are his big hands, opening up his jumpsut, stroking the needy flesh beneath - making Michael’s mouth legitimately water, making him shudder with want as he waits. “Won’t last long enough for anything if you keep talking like that.”

Michael can only smirk. ‘ _what I was gonna come back here and do to you_ ’ Lincoln had said. He deserves this.

And he doesn’t seem to doubt Michael’s interest in giving it to him any longer. With a few shifts of clothing and a couple of steps, Lincoln is back close enough for Michael to breathe into his skin.

This time that means the skin of Lincoln’s flushed cock, held tight in one fist while Lncoln’s other hand goes back to the nape of Michael’s neck, already becoming one of Michael’s favorite spots to be touched, if only by this man.

“You want it, Mikey, you take it,” Linc says, swiping the slick tip of his erection across Michael’s parted lips as Michael leans forward to lick him, erasing any notion Michael might have had about the surprise shortening of his name. And then Michael’s mouth is fully open, closing over Lincoln’s cock like it’s been waiting for him a lot longer, and the world outside of the weight on his tongue, the strain of his jaw and lips, Lincoln’s quiet grunts and gasps might as well cease to exist for the next little while.

Lincoln isn’t quiet for any of it, but he’s not obnoxiously loud. He’s not broadcasting what he’s doing to Michael - what Michael’s doing to him - to their unwanted audience in the distance. 

If either of them, the exhibitionist would seem to be Michael, from the way he cries out suddenly around Lincoln’s cock - thankfully on an outward stroke so he doesn’t choke. His hands, which had clenched at Lincoln’s hips... wandered behind to grip the strong curves of his ass, forward to map the girth of his thighs the best Michael could through Lincoln’s jumpsuit... snap to his own dick as it jerks inside his clothing, erupting like he’s the literal ‘kid’ Lincoln keeps calling him. 

“Oh fuck, yeah, that’s hot...” Lincoln groans, twitching with the obvious need to keep thrusting down Michael’s throat, carefully resisting.

Lips still buzzing the way everything seems to be buzzing as Michael drifts through his orgasm, he goes back to work on Lincoln - sucking faster, harder - desperate to pull Lincoln along with him before the last shiver of climax cycles through him.

Lincoln’s been palming the back of Michael’s head, running over his scalp, petting him, touching his face. 

Michael grabs him by both wrists, stilling Lincoln’s hands and repositioning them on either side of Michael’s head.

Then he slackens his jaw and looks up at Lincoln through his lashes, just waiting.

Then that’s it. Lincoln makes a sound Michael couldn’t begin to describe, panting out broken curse words and praise, pumping so quick and hard into Michael’s mouth - once, twice, once more - that he would have knocked Michael back on his heels if Michael hadn’t been ready for him.

And he comes, tipping his head back on a moan and releasing into Michael’s mouth, down Michael’s throat. Michael holds still until Lincoln’s cock stops shuddering through release, Lincoln watching him through lidded eyes the entire time and shuddering when Michael swallows.

“Holy... shit, Michael. Holy shit...” Lincoln stutters.

Michael’s always a little loopy right after sex. Too unfiltered, too intense. The best he can hope for, most often, is that whoever he’s with won’t run at the first shine of devotion they see sparking in his eyes. That he can catch himself at dopey looks and leave off saying whatever embarrassing thought pops into his head.

Tonight he’s not so lucky. 

“I didn’t realize I’d been wanting that for so long,” Michael hears the words leaving his lips. They sound absolutely obscene with his voice roughened, obviously from one thing.

But if Lincoln minds the too soft smile and loopy eyes that go with all that, he doesn’t show it. He looks at Michael with just as much heat as he had before this started, burning quietly at the back of his gaze, and drops to his knees as well, grabbing Michael by the face once more and crushing their lips together. 

“Not my problem,” Lincoln says into their kiss, continuing before Michael can misunderstand, “I knew I wanted you the day you stepped into this cell with me.”

Michael just tries to breath. He holds onto Lincoln and admits, if only in his head, that Lincoln’s described how it is between them - for the both of them - better than he had.

**Author's Note:**

> Title of series based on "Found" by Amber Run.
> 
> Title of this part based on "Spark" by the same band.


End file.
